Tasting Senselessness
by Tiger-Hime
Summary: I was no stranger to insanity. However, I didn't exactly appreciate it in my victims. So when this bitch fought back and actually almost killed me, I knew she was special. Oh yes, I had plans for her... Jeff the Killer. Maybe Jeff x OC later. T for language. Read and Review!
1. Welcome to the Show

**LOOK A JEFF THE KILLER FAN FIC. YAY ME.**

**Ugh, stupid murderer is growing on me. .-. I don't know how much of the JTK fanbase I can find on here...hopefully I can find enough. *sigh***

**Anyway, if you need help hearing Jeff's voice, go look up The Seer series on YouTube by Madame Macabre. I love that voice for Jeff.**

**So...yeah. This is a sort of prologue. I think the rest of the story is going to be in Jeff's point of view. I don't know if this is going to be Jeff X OC yet, so pls don't ask me...we will see, now won't we?**

**READ AND REVIEW**

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The sun was sinking lower and lower. The sky bled yellow and crimson as the daylight died. Wisps of gray clouds darted past the trees. A storm was coming. The smell was strong in the air. As if in response to such an observation, lightning snapped at the edge of the forest. The tall strands golden grass waved to the storm, as though beckoning it closer as woman might to her lover that has been gone awhile.

There was a flash of white. She turned her head. Her hair was a rich dark brown, nearly black. The light caught it, making it blaze like a demon's fire. It waved slowly in the small breeze, blending in with the darkness and shifting shadows behind her. She narrowed her blue eyes at the target. A doe had stepped into the gold field. She smiled behind the facemask that covered her pale face. This one was young. There would be more.

She watched the sun sink lower. As darkness crept across the sky, the deer became less wary and tiptoed through the grass freely. Standing slowly, she tucked her fiery hair into the mask she wore. Her arm reached out and picked up her bow. It was loaded with a dangerous arrow, a fixed broad head glistening in the pale light. An old salt and pepper doe was wandering close. She shivered and pressed against the young sapling. The doe lifted her head in the direction of the girl, large eyes seeming to stare right at her. She caught her breath; she was barely breathing. Seconds felt like hours.

The old deer lowered its head and munched on the golden grass. She drew back her bow, closing her left eye and staring down the arrow with her right. A smirk pulled at her lips behind the mask and a primitive hunger flickered in her eye. She released.

A loud cracking sound let her know the arrow had ripped into the doe. Blood was pouring from her heart and lungs as she sprinted from one edge of the field, crashing in the dirt before she could reach the other edge. Her body flailed and thrashed for a few seconds before going still. The other deer had fled the scene, stumbling around the woods as they escaped.

Silence blanketed the field. With a grin, she ripped the camouflage mask off of her face, revealing sun kissed skin. She shouldered her backpack, keeping her bow in hand. She followed the red spatters and retrieved the blood-soaked arrow, sliding it back into her quiver. Her eyes were filled with malicious glee. She tossed back her head and howled, mimicking the sliding silver sounds of a she-wolf. A nearby lone wolf howled back in praise, hearing the sound of a successful hunt in her song. She grinned and sauntered over to the dead doe. The deer was big, but still slender. Without missing a beat, she had the bow strung cross-body over her chest. She picked up the doe's back legs and started dragging her away.

As she started down the road to the hunting camp, she felt eyes on her. Unblinking eyes. She dropped the doe's legs and reached into her boot, pulling out a large knife. She turned in the direction of the stare, expecting to see a wolf staring at her.

It wasn't a wolf. But it was definitely something.

Two eyes locked on her. They were big, wide eyes. The pupils were tiny, shrouded in barely-there silver irises. Those two eyes seemed to glow. She bared her teeth and narrowed her own eyes.

"Come on out, asshole!" she yelled. Those eyes just tilted. "Don't fucking stare at me, come on if you're gonna, you fucking jerkoff!"

The eyes rolled, but she could see the anger permeating the carelessness. She clutched the knife tightly, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She clenched and unclenched her other, sweat beading on her palm in anger and slight fear.

Finally, the owner of the eyes disappeared. She wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. She slid the knife back in her boot slowly, as if she didn't want to put it away. She snatched the bloody doe up and carried the dead weight as best as she could to the camp. Over the years of carrying deer she'd gotten stronger, but she was still struggled. She threw the doe down on the concrete. Sighing, she strung up the doe by the tendons in its back legs. She slipped out the knife in the opposite boot and used the hooked end to swiftly rip the skin away from the muscle. She pulled it off; she flipped the blade around and gutted the deer with a smile.

After much pondering about what cuts of meat to take, she settled on the back straps, both hind legs and several slabs for steaks. She took the meat and started to put it in freezer bags when that same cold stare left her back burning.

With a soft growl, she spun around. She snatched up her bow, loading and drawing it in one swift motion. She aimed the arrow between those glowing eyes.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" she snapped, her fingers itching to let go of the string. Something held her back. This thing was here for a reason. It hadn't attacked yet, so maybe it wasn't planning to.

"I just think you need to sleep more," it said in a masculine, smooth voice. The voice had a sharp edge to it. It was laced with an inhuman, insane sound. The voice was tainted by evil giggles and blood. She backed away from the sound of the voice. Glowing, crazy eyes and the voice of a madman…she reached down and snatched out her other knife, holding them both out. She shuffled nervously. Suddenly the eyes disappeared. She blinked in confusion.

"Don't be so scared. I just want to make you beautiful…" He smelled like bleach and blood. However, his breath smelled like…Pepsi?

She whipped around, slashing at the air. But he was already gone. Her eyebrows slid together in pure confusion.

"I'll be back," called the voice ominously. She turned again. Her eyes locked on a figure running through the woods. In no time, he had melted into the thick, dark pines that extended far past the property line.

"What the fuck?"

Shivering, she slid the knives back into her boots. As she tossed the deer carcass towards a known wolf den, her eyes kept darting around to look for those eyes. Her body wouldn't stop shaking even as she climbed into her truck and drove away.

The burning feeling in her back never went away.


	2. Nightmare

**Cybering is so 1999.**

**That was so irrelevant but it's what I'm listening to currently so yeah.**

**Finally updating. *passes out* I just started school again so this has been put on hold. I'm sorry! Hope you guys enjoy this. I don't know. Just me forcing a chapter out.**

**Someone please kill me.**

**I've also been extremely distracted by my new Bamboo tablet. I'm actually drawing a concept art for 'Jess' right now. So yeah!**

**READ AND REVIEW PLS?**

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Several days had slipped by since the incident in the woods. It was getting progressively colder as fall started to sink in. The girl was bundled up tight in a fluffy gray jacket and a black beanie to keep her ears warm. Her nose was red from the wind. She sneezed and mumbled bitterly at the swirling, cold breeze. She stared off into the distance as she stumbled home. A sigh left her lips in a curling white wisp. With a shiver, she became aware of the sound of light footsteps. She whirled around, eyes wide with fear and rage.

Nothing was there. But she could still see the white smoke from someone else's mouth floating in the air. Her breath hitched. Tears stung her eyes and flooded her face. She turned and bolted down the street. She couldn't see much, but she was pretty sure she was going the right way. Her teeth chattered from the chilly winds. Her blurred gaze locked on her pitiful little house. Finally.

She bolted inside, locking the door. Her chest was heaving as she pushed her back against the door. She closed her eyes, blocking out her fear. A heavy sigh lifted away from her. Her initial terror subsided, replaced by exhaustion and a burning anger that simmered in the pit of her stomach. She gritted her teeth, tossing her keys and purse on the table. She wandered into the kitchen, hitting the button on the answering machine as she did.

_Hey, Jess, it's Billy._

Her head snapped up.

_Just thought I'd call. I got the gift card you sent for my birthday. Thanks! I spent it on some games I've been wanting. But you don't care, do you?_

She wandered over to the answering machine, gripping it with white knuckles. Her blue eyes were dull and filled with tears. Get on with it, goddammit!

_The police reopened the case a couple days ago. Hard to believe it's been six years, huh? But they called. Interviewed everyone again. They still don't know what happened…they haven't found any leads or any indication of—_

In the background, there was a muffled call of his name.

_I gotta go. Mom doesn't like me talking about it. Text me sometime. Bye._

With a cry of defeat, she picked up the answering machine and threw it across the kitchen. It made a sick crunching sound when it came into contact the oven. She stomped past the remains of the machine, heading for her bathroom. She ripped off her uniform and threw it down. The door slammed and she climbed into the shower.

Tears flowed down her face as the hot water splashed across her body. She covered her face and sobbed soundlessly. Still fucking nothing at home. She almost fell to the floor with the sadness and frustration. He still had no fucking justice and there was still no sign of the other one. How was that fair?

She kept thinking of them as she scrubbed her head and body. A snarl of pain left her as she clawed her arm too hard, leaving three distinct scratches on the soft flesh of her wrist. She watched the little red beads dribble down her fingers before being washed off and down the drain. Frustration over took her body as she shut off the water. Crimson continued to stain her skin. She wrapped herself in a towel; she headed into her room, slipping into a white tank top and long black and red gingham pants. She pulled her hair up.

Climbing into bed, she pulled out her phone. She flicked through her contacts blindly and clicked the one labeled 'Billy'. She typed up a message, telling him she'd gotten his voicemail and asking him to please send her any and all details regarding the case; she needed answers.

After a few minutes, Billy responded. He told her he would text her later, his mom was hovering over his phone. She ground her teeth in frustration and slammed the phone down on her nightstand. She rolled over, closing her eyes. Images blew through her mind. Painful memories resurfaced, and she muttered at them to go away.

After battling with the emotions and memories, she finally managed to quiet her brain for five minutes. Her breathing slowed; her heart thudded gently. Her body twitched, responding to a dream she never wanted to escape. She mumbled his name and whispered how she missed him.

Slowly, the window to her room slid open while she slept. His unblinking stare fixated on her, and his forever-smile widened. His feet hit the floor silently. He sidled over to her slowly, eyes never leaving her face. She seemed so familiar, and the killer hated it. He tilted his head, eyes roaming her body. The killer spotted the phone on the nightstand. Without hesitating, he picked it up, staring at the text from Billy. His stomach burned with hatred and the memories. He squeezed the phone tight. The screen cracked slightly, and the killer dropped in on the carpet.

He stared at her, wondering silently why he would be contacting her. That sense of familiarity was still burning in his mind as he looked at her. It had been six long years. It was a miracle in itself that the pieces of his mind still managed to recognize this girl, even though his recognition was fuzzy at best. His head hurt as he tried to recall old names, old faces, _anything _to help him remember who she was. Frustration and anger bubbled within him as the various voices inside his head argued and bitched at one another.

The killer leaned down over her, face inches from hers. He slipped soundlessly onto her bed, straddling her hips with his knees. His eyes scanned her face and her body. Why did she have to be familiar? Why couldn't she just be another victim? Why was she fucking with his head like she was?

He _still_ hadn't killed her. He had been stalking her for almost two weeks…and yet, she was still alive. He wanted answers; he wanted to know who she was and why that sense of familiarity fogged up his brain. The killer remembered the night in the woods, how he called out to her that he wanted to make her more beautiful. Thoughts about slitting her mouth into a permanent grin crossed his mind; thoughts about driving his knife into those stormy blue eyes and taking away her sight wandered into his head. His smile widened if that was at all possible; he was comforted by sick thoughts.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly as she felt pressure on her hip. She looked over; she saw a black-clad knee pushing against her bone. A terrified gasp caught in her throat as her gaze fixated on the grinning sadist above her. She recognized the tiny pupils from the night in the woods. He had kept his promise about coming back. Her eyes took in the sight of the white hoodie, the black pants and Converse. That was when something shattered inside.

Anger boiled deep in the pit of her stomach. Was this some sick fucking joke? Wearing the same fucking thing he had last been seen in? Who the fuck did this guy think he was! Her brain shut down as insanity started to rip her apart. She stared up at that snow-white face, grinding her teeth as she thought off them, the dead brother and the missing brother. The man above her was just drinking in those gray-blue eyes that thundered with the hint of madness.

Without thinking, she punched the man in the face, sending him tumbling to the floor. She pounced on him, ripping the knife from his hoodie. Somewhere deep inside, something broke. Tears streamed down her face. Pain rattled her heart as she plunged the knife deep in his chest. Warm, sticky blood gushed onto her face in a murderous shower. She yanked the knife from his skin and slammed it back down again, over and over. She hated him. She wanted him to die. Over and over… She wanted the boys back. She wanted things back to the way they were. Over and over… Why did it happen to them? Why did this have to happen at all? Over and over and over and over…

Finally, the killer summoned the strength to throw the girl off of him. She slid across the floor, picking herself up to rest on her hands and knees. Blood spatters coated her face, body and walls. She wiped her mouth as he stomped over and kicked her. She grabbed her stomach and winced. He knelt beside her, lifting up her tank top. He picked up his knife, digging the dirty blade into the thin tissue about her hip. She screamed, thrashing beneath the arm he used to restrain her. Her nails dug into his arms, ripping at the hoodie.

"You fucking bitch," he snarled, glancing down at a particularly bad gash. "As much as I want to fucking hate you…you have talent. And I can't hate talent." He lifted the knife and placed the blade under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You've got a lot to learn, fuck face, before…" He stopped talking, staring at the marks he'd made on her hip. He lowered the blade to her hip again.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she snapped, clawing at him as he continued to write in her skin.

"Oh you'll see, Lil' Bitch. You'll see."

The killer walked over to the window and disappeared. He didn't climb out and hop down. He just…disappeared. Wind ghosted in through the still-open window.

She lay in awe on the carpet, red bleeding into the white. No one had called her that in six years… No one had called her that since…

She looked down and lifted her bloody tank top.

Written in her skin was the word, _MINE._


End file.
